Their faces were misconfigured

sábado, noviembre 19, 2022

 Their faces were misconfigured. Of that. Then their sadness thawed. White gloves for the deal. May the contagion not run to loose teeth, open jaws. It comes to say the abyss of the other. In its salt ridges. Love sometimes in its steps. The body comes to access its solitude. By multiple doors that take.

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